The Greek's Penniless Cinderella

by Julia James

  ‘Maria’s just serving some refreshments. You must be thirsty, I’m sure.’

  She followed him up the beach into the welcome cool under a huge cantilevered parasol that shaded a table and chairs in front of the villa, where Maria was setting down a tray laden with coffee, fruit juice, water and a plate of syrupy nut-strewn pastries.

  ‘Eat,’ she instructed, and bustled off.

  Rosalie gratefully poured herself a glass of juice, cut it with iced water, and knocked it back appreciatively.

  ‘Are you going to mortally offend Maria and not eat one of her pastries?’

  Xandros’s laconic question interrupted her train of thought.

  ‘They look delicious, but I’ve been eating like a pig since...well, since I was let loose on gourmet food!’ Rosalie answered lightly. ‘I’ll be as fat as one too if I keep going the same way!’

  Dark eyes washed over her assessingly. ‘I think that unlikely.’

  Xandros’s voice was dry, and there was something about it that made her own mouth suddenly dry. She wished he hadn’t looked at her the way he had.

  He doesn’t understand the impact he has—even just saying things like that.

  The trouble was, it didn’t help her that he didn’t...

  I have to make myself not react! I have to! Or I’ll never survive this honeymoon, never mind six months of being married to him...

  In her head she heard yet again the brief, stark words he’d said to her last night before he’d walked away.

  ‘This was a mistake.’

  Those were the words she had to remember.

  The only words.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘SO, DO YOU fancy a swim?’ Xandros pushed his empty coffee cup aside, drained his iced water and looked across at Rosalie. His breath caught silently. In formal daywear and nightwear she looked breathtaking, but in casual gear she looked every bit as stunning...

  He got to his feet. A swim would be good for more than just cooling off and freshening up. It would take his mind off what he would like to do right now. Sweep her off her feet and into his bedroom—his bed.

  But she wasn’t ready for that yet, and he was no clumsy teen, wanting to rush his fences. Their wedding night would come—but not now.

  ‘How about it?’ he asked, looking down at her.

  She smiled and stood up. ‘Sounds wonderful,’ she said. ‘I’ll go and get changed.’

  He did likewise, and five minutes later was at the water’s edge. He watched her come out of the villa, in a one-piece swimsuit covered in a beach wrap, her hair pinned up on top of her head. His breath caught again—she looked so lovely...

  She also looked self-conscious, and with a gallantry he hadn’t known he possessed he gave her a half-wave, then waded into the water, executing a duck dive and surfacing into a powerful freestyle, heading out to sea.

  Far enough out, he turned, treading water. She’d discarded her wrap and was knee-high in the water. ‘Come on in! It’s not cold!’ he called to her.

  ‘It’s gorgeous!’ she called back, and went on wading in, to chest height.

  Then, lifting her arms, she plunged into a breaststroke and headed out towards him. When she was near she halted, rolling on to her back, slowly extending her legs and arms to keep herself afloat, closing her eyes against the brightness of the sun.

  Xandros watched her offering her fabulous body to the sun, with nothing but the material of the turquoise one-piece between it and her nakedness...

  Something quickened inside him and moved—something he had not felt before—as she floated, so still...so achingly beautiful.

  His gaze feasted upon her.

  I could kiss her now, as she floats on the water, eyes closed, lips parted...

  Almost he succumbed to the temptation welling up in him. But wiser counsel prevailed. They were out of their depth at this distance, and any kind of kiss would soon find them both under the surface and flailing for air. No, there would be time enough for kisses. Kisses and so much more...

  ‘You look like a basking mermaid,’ he said instead, a smile in his voice.

  She did not open her eyes. ‘I feel like one,’ she answered. ‘This is absolute bliss.’

  He turned on his back and floated wide himself. ‘It is,’ he confirmed.

  He went on floating beside her peacefully for a while, bobbing in the gentle swell, keeping his eyes shut against the bright sunshine. He was conscious that they were drifting further out to sea. He said as much to Rosalie, turning himself over to check their distance from the shore. She did likewise.

  ‘But the Mediterranean is tideless, isn’t it?’ she asked.

  ‘There’s a slight tide—and definitely currents—but nothing like what you’re used to in Britain,’ he answered, and they both started to make their way with a slow breaststroke back towards the beach.

  ‘I’m not used to the seaside anywhere,’ she replied. ‘I’ve never been till now.’

  Xandros’s expression changed. ‘You’ve never been to the seaside?’ His voice was disbelieving.

  ‘Not even Southend!’ she exclaimed, half-humorously, half-sadly. ‘That’s the closest seaside for East Enders, but Mum was never well enough to go. Never well enough for anything, really—not that there was any money for holidays anyway,’ she finished.

  Now he could hear more sadness in her voice than humour. Pity for her filled him, and resolve, too—to do whatever he could to compensate her for the deprivations of her impoverished life. Even in the darkest days of his childhood, when money worries for his parents had been at their height, he had enjoyed an affluence way beyond Rosalie’s.

  Well, now she would enjoy not only mere affluence, but luxury—all that he could provide for her. Every luxury—and every pleasure.

  He felt his brow furrowing as he swam. It was new to him to entertain such an impulse. All the women he’d been involved with had come from his own world, used to luxury and expensive living—Ariadne included. And for none of them—not even Ariadne—had he felt this overwhelming desire to provide for them. Make them happy.

  His eyes went to her now as she swam beside him, her gaze focussed on the approaching beach.

  I want to make her happy! That’s exactly what I want to do!

  It was a strange feeling. A novel feeling. A good feeling.

  And it was a feeling he went on feeling, bringing to him an inner warm glow as they waded ashore.

  ‘If you’ve any energy left, let’s go for a walk. I’ll show you something of the island. Nothing too strenuous, I promise.’

  Nor was it.

  Showered and dressed again, he led the way up a narrow path through the thickly growing oleander bushes on the far side of the beach.

  As they reached the clifftop, and the vista of the rugged coastline and the wild, maquis-covered terrain opened up before them, Rosalie gave a smile of pleasure at his side.

  ‘Oh, it’s beautiful!’ she said enthusiastically.

  Xandros looked at her, smiling himself. She was wearing sunglasses, and her hair was caught back with a barrette. But it was being winnowed by the wind spilling off the clifftop. She pushed it back with her hand, taking in the view. Her beauty was natural, unforced. He wanted to do nothing but gaze at her and drink it in.

  Then, abruptly, she started. A goat, followed by several more, leapt from behind some low bushes, disturbed by their presence, bounding away inland.

  ‘They’re supposed to be feral,’ Xandros told her, ‘But Maria feeds them if she thinks they look hungry. In exchange, she milks them and makes cheese. I expect we’ll sample some tonight at dinner. Speaking of which,’ he went on, ‘we’d better head back. We’ll come up another day—bring a picnic lunch with us. It’s a great spot for watching the sunset, too—though tonight it’s going to be the Champagne Sunset Show, down on the beach.’


  She smiled. ‘Sounds good,’ she answered.

  ‘And we must brace ourselves,’ he said, humour in his voice, ‘for Maria will have excelled herself with dinner. She’s been cooking all day, Panos told me.’

  A wedding feast. A wedding feast to fill them both up. Give them energy for the night ahead.

  Their wedding night...

  * * *

  Rosalie glanced at her reflection in the long mirror on the wall in her bedroom. Her brushed cotton dress fell in soft butter-yellow folds to her ankles from a high waistline. The slight bodice was ruched over her breasts, skimming her shoulders. She’d draped a creamy embroidered shawl around her, held her hair back with a narrow headband. Her make-up was minimal—some mascara and lip gloss—and her fragrance was a light floral scent, not the heavier perfume she had indulged in in Athens.

  She frowned uncertainly. Though she wasn’t in the least glitzed up, as she had been in Athens, should she have dressed up at all? Would Xandros think she was trying to send a message he did not wish to hear, as he had made so clear last night?

  Well, her behaviour towards him must show him otherwise, that was all. She had managed it so far—that walk up to the clifftop had gone okay, and all she had to do was keep that going. Be interested in what he said, be cheerful and friendly and easy-going.

  And not look at him too often...

  She made her way outside to the beach, to find Xandros already there, relaxing back in a canvas chair, long legs outstretched. The sun was low on the horizon, bathing the scene in rich red gold.

  ‘Come and sit down.’ He got to his feet. ‘The sunset show is about to begin.’

  There was an ice bucket on a table, and in it an open bottle of champagne. Rosalie took her seat and Xandros resumed his, pouring a flute for each of them.

  She took hers from him, conscious of the slight brush of his fingers as she did so. Now, in profile against the lowering sun, she saw his eyes resting on her. Saw the warm glow on her.

  ‘To our marriage,’ he said, and lifted his glass to tilt it against hers. ‘May it bring everything to us that we want.’

  It was something she could drink to, and did, but even as she did so she was conscious of the tug of that strange melancholy again.

  But what if I want more from it than you do?

  It was a dangerous thought, and a useless thought, for she knew perfectly well why they had married and what it would give them. A great deal.

  But not each other.

  That was not what their marriage was about and she must remember it. Remember it with piercing purpose now, as she took a sip of the beautifully beading liquid, felt its bouquet shimmer in her mouth.

  For a moment—just a moment—their eyes met over the flutes and she felt something shimmer deep inside her along with the champagne’s bouquet...

  She turned her head away, lest her eyes reveal it. Gazed out over the water, shading from azure to gold as the sun lowered. Neither talked, as if by mutual consent, just watched quietly, the only sound that of the wavelets lapping onto the pebbles.

  Moment by moment the sun pooled into the waiting Aegean.

  And was gone.

  Xandros pushed back his chair, getting to his feet. ‘I can smell the fruits of Maria’s labours. It would not do to be late for them!’

  They strolled back to the villa, Xandros taking the champagne with him, and made their way round to the gable end of the house, beyond their bedrooms. There was a pretty little stone-flagged terrace, girded by a low wall on which sat pots of red and white geraniums. A vine-covered pergola arched over it, threaded with fairy-lights which also wound around the wooden supports of the pergola.

  A table was set with a white linen tablecloth, a centrepiece of fragrant white flowers and a huge candle in a glass holder which gave a soft glow to the whole scene. Rosalie’s face broke into a rapturous smile. It was all so enchantingly beautiful.

  She exclaimed and said as much, and Xandros smiled, ushering her to the table, refilling their champagne flutes.

  Then Maria was bustling out to the terrace, emerging from somewhere at the back of the villa where, Rosalie presumed, the kitchen was situated.

  ‘Welcome! Welcome!’ She beamed. Then, ‘Eat, eat!’ she instructed, depositing upon the table a vast platter groaning with food.

  Mounds of delicious-smelling slices of slow-cooked lamb were layered over fragrant rice and roasted potatoes, lapped with green beans and fried tomatoes... There was enough to feed way more than just themselves.

  ‘I did warn you,’ Xandros said, catching Rosalie’s eye, his mouth tugging in a smile.

  ‘Where are the dozen other dinner guests?’ she responded humorously.

  He laughed, and began to serve up.

  Rosalie gave a moan of appreciation. It all tasted incredible. The herb-crusted lamb melted in her mouth—it had been slow roasting over charcoal for hours, Xandros told her—and the accompaniments, hearty as they were, tasted, to her mind, better than all the gourmet food she’d been revelling in since Xandros had lifted her of the poverty she’d known all her life.

  ‘This is so good!’ she enthused.

  Maria emerged yet again, this time bringing an open bottle of red wine, depositing that, too, on the table with a flourish.

  Rosalie ventured another line of phrasebook Greek, trying to saying how good the food was, and acquired a volley of approving speech in return.

  Xandros translated for her. ‘She says you need to be strong for your wedding night,’ he told her.

  In the candlelight there was a knowing glint in his eyes that Rosalie found difficult to cope with. But then reason came to the rescue.

  He knows the irony of that. That’s what that glint is for.

  A shadow fluttered over her and she reached for her flute again, to banish it. But as the meal progressed it was hard to keep to her resolve not to be beguiled by everything about Xandros.

  He’d always been attentive to her when they’d dined together in Athens, but this evening, under the fairy-lights woven into the vines, in the soft, flickering candlelight, she could see his eyes constantly on her. Warm...glinting...

  She tried to ward it off.

  He doesn’t realise the effect he’s having! That’s the thing—he doesn’t mean it...doesn’t intend it. It just comes naturally to him. It’s part of who he is.

  The most intensely attractive male she could imagine, let alone have set eyes on in real life.

  She fought it—she had to—but it was getting harder by the minute.

  He’d poured a full glass of red wine for her, and its heady strength could not be denied. Perhaps it was not wise of her to imbibe so freely, but it washed the rich lamb down so perfectly it was hard to refrain.

  Her plate was empty now, finally, but then there was a smaller second helping for them both, because it was so good it was impossible to refrain from that.

  But when Maria re-emerged, whisking away the remnants and then replacing the lamb with another platter groaning with pastries, Rosalie gave an echoing groan.

  She sat back, shaking her head. ‘I couldn’t! Not a thing!’

  Across the table from her, Xandros laughed, picking up his wine glass and draining it. ‘These are different from this afternoon. Lighter. Filled with curd cheese and honey. Try one. You’ll like it, I promise you.’

  Tempted, she did just that, and he was right—it was delicious.

  ‘Is this the goat’s cheese you told me about?’ she asked Xandros brightly. That was better, surely? Asking about goats and cheese...anything that wasn’t about the way his dark, long-lashed eyes were resting on her...

  He nodded, helping himself to several of the pastries and starting to demolish them. Where they all went, Rosalie wasn’t sure—certainly not into body fat.

  Memory leapt in her—seeing him stripped down to swim shorts h
ad been even more disturbing than seeing him when he’d been wearing that moulding white tee. In the sea she’d been able to see what it had been moulding. A perfectly honed torso, with smooth, golden pecs, and ripped and rippling abs...

  She banished the memory. Definitely not a safe one. Not when she had a glass of champagne and nearly two of red wine inside her.

  A sense of danger caught at her. She must not succumb—must not!—to the seductive aura all around her. Xandros opposite her, the gold-flecked glint of his eyes resting on her, lounging back, looking so lithe, so fabulous, so incredibly tempting...

  I have to resist it! Resist him! Resist everything about him—everything he does to me when I’m gazing at him like this...

  Because he didn’t want her—not in that way.

  Into her head came the words he’d thrown at her last night as he’d broken away from their kiss.

  ‘This was a mistake.’

  And it would be a mistake—her mistake this time!—for her to carry on indulging in gazing at him the way she wanted to. Indulging herself in anything about him at all. What did she know of men? Her romance-starved, constricted life had given her no experience—let alone of a man like Xandros.

  He’d finished his pastries and was pushing his empty plate away from him, his gaze resting on her with half-closed eyes. She tried to drop her own gaze because she knew she should...must...but found she couldn’t. She tried not to be aware of how she could feel her pulse beating at her throat—but she couldn’t ignore it. It was impossible...just impossible.

  He leaned forward suddenly, reaching out with his napkin in his hand. ‘You’ve got a pastry crumb caught on your lip,’ he said.

  His voice was husky as he dabbed at the offending particle, his fingers just brushing the soft curve of her mouth.

  She felt the pulse at her throat surge, her breath go still in her lungs. Her eyes held his, helpless to do anything else.

  The candle was burning low in its glass case, starting to gutter, and the heady scent of the white flowers in the centrepiece—jasmine, Xandros had told her earlier, when she’d asked—caught at her senses.